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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26664886">Missed Opportunities</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeBeeStrellacott/pseuds/SeeBeeStrellacott'>SeeBeeStrellacott</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Book 5: Troubled Blood (Cormoran Strike), Canon Rewrite, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Troubled Blood Spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:15:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,391</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26664886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeBeeStrellacott/pseuds/SeeBeeStrellacott</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>TROUBLED BLOOD SPOILERS<br/>This work is a series of canon rewrites.  Each chapter is my take on how certain scenes should have played out.  Chapters are unconnected and in no particular order according to the story.  Some chapters are explicit, some are not.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>158</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 73</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>How Robin's birthday should have ended.  Smut included. 😉</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Strike dressed with care, putting on his best suit.  He put on some of the cologne that he reserved for special occasions.  Tonight certainly fit that bill.  He felt jittery.  His heart was pounding and his hands were sweating.  He was as nervous as a teenager going on his first date.</p><p>He didn’t bother ignoring the reason for his nerves, nor did he try to convince himself that he wasn’t feeling what he was feeling.  He knew exactly why he was nervous. </p><p>He thought of one of his favorite lines from Catullus.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Godlike the man who</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>sits at her side, who</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>watches and catches</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>that laughter</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>which (softly) tears me</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>to tatters: nothing is</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>left of me, each time</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>I see her…</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Ever since it occurred to him that Robin leaving the agency would be akin to a divorce, Strike couldn’t stop thinking about how close they truly were.  In making her a partner, he was now more committed to her than he had ever been to anyone, even considering his brief engagement.  But this thought didn’t scare him.</p><p>Robin was unlike any other woman he knew.  She never tried to improve him, never tried to pressure him into doing anything he didn’t want to do.  She never pushed.  She was strong, independent, intelligent, courageous, kind, and <em>beautiful</em>.</p><p>As much as he enjoyed the freedom and solitude of being single, there was still an emptiness in it.  Whenever he was alone, it was Robin’s voice he longed to hear, Robin’s company he craved.  So why keep himself in isolation?  Hadn’t he already decided it would be equivalent to getting divorced if she ever left the agency?  Wouldn’t their friendship have to turn extremely sour to make her go? </p><p>For so long, he feared what would happen to the agency if he ever acted on the feelings he kept hidden beneath the surface.  But what was the purpose of denying himself what he truly desired if their parting of ways would be disastrous anyway?</p><p>He normally considered maintaining a romance something of a chore.  Sure, relationships had their upsides, but it was still a lot of effort keeping a woman happy with the hours he worked.  But Robin took as much enjoyment out of the job as he did.  She was happy to discuss work outside of work hours.  She understood and appreciated what it took to do the job.  And she wasn’t like other women.</p><p>It wasn’t until Strike heard about Morris’s Christmas exploits that he decided there was no point in pretending any longer.  Apart from the fury and revulsion he felt on Robin’s behalf for enduring such lewd and unwanted advances, Strike was extremely bothered by the knowledge that Robin had seen another man’s dick.  She was divorced now.  She would start dating again at some point.  Strike was filled with intense jealousy, just at the thought of some hypothetical future romance.  He was once certain their business couldn’t survive if they saw each other naked, but now he was certain it wouldn’t survive if Robin saw <em>another</em> man naked.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to work with her, side-by-side, knowing she would be going home to another man’s bed.  He couldn’t endure a lifetime of trying not to think about her with her partner.</p><p>In essence, the business was doomed either way.  As Strike saw it, the only possibility for the continued success of their agency was to move forward <em>together</em>. </p><p>And so Strike had come to a decision.  He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, deny his feelings for Robin Ellacott any longer.  There were so many moments between them, so many looks… he had a strong suspicion that she felt the same for him.  Perhaps this wouldn’t end in disaster.</p><p>The only question now was when and how to take the next step.  Her birthday was a timely opening into their possible future together.  And so he planned an evening neither of them would soon forget. </p><p>Strike looked at his watch and saw that it was half past four.  He needed to leave if he didn’t want to be late.  He checked his reflection one last time in the mirror and straightened his tie.  Heart hammering as if he’d just run a marathon, he locked the door to his flat and descended the stairs out into the cool October evening.</p><p>Strike arrived ten minutes early, conscious of the accusations that had been thrown at him during the worst row they had ever experienced, even accounting for the time that he had sacked her.  His pulse continued to race until he saw Robin walking towards him.  She was wearing that blue dress that looked so lovely on her.  An odd sense of calm swept over Strike at the sight of her, even as his breath quickened in anticipation.</p><p>***</p><p>Turning away from the banked flowers with the new bottle of perfume, Strike could still feel the place where Robin’s lips had kissed his cheek.  The sport burned and tingled, causing his stomach to flutter, though not unpleasantly.  He hadn’t wanted to let go of her, but didn’t have a good reason for keeping her in his arms.  And so he had reluctantly let her slide from his grasp as he turned to hail a cab.  As they waited for one to pull up, Robin sprayed on some of her new perfume.  The warm, musky scent enveloped him, teasing him, until all he could think about was cocooning himself with her in a tangle of sheets. </p><p>Though he could already smell her, he reached for her wrist and said, “Here’s the true test.  Let’s see if it’s as good on you as it is in the bottle.” </p><p>He brought her wrist up to his nose and inhaled.  Robin’s breath caught as the tip of his nose brushed over the patch of sensitive skin.  He looked up at her through his eyelashes, head still bent over her wrist.  Desire swept over his face like a passing shadow, and Robin’s knees nearly gave out. </p><p>She swallowed with difficulty and recovered herself just enough to squeak, “Good?”</p><p>“Mmm, very good.”  Strike’s nose lingered at her pulse a second longer than necessary, and perhaps he wouldn’t have released his hold on her at all if it weren’t for the cab that pulled up to the curb.</p><p>Strike found it difficult to keep his eyes off her during the ride, and so he didn’t.  To give himself an excuse to continue gazing at her, he asked after Max and his TV show.  Robin chatted happily for the rest of the short drive, and Strike had to remind himself to pay attention to what she was saying instead of staring distractedly at her mouth.</p><p>***</p><p>They were seated at a corner table by the window, which Strike had reserved ahead of time.  Their chairs were pulled next to each other, so that both had a view of the garden.  Robin picked up the wine list apprehensively.  She didn’t even look beyond the first champagne listed, resolved to order the cheapest glass, which was still rather expensive. </p><p>When the waiter appeared, Strike spoke first, heading off her plan.  “Can we have a bottle of Veuve Clicquot ‘La Grande Dame’ please?”</p><p>When the waiter had walked away, Robin leaned over and whispered, “Cormoran, this is too much, really.”</p><p>“Nonsense, thirty is a special year.  Plus, I think I have a few birthdays to make up for.”  He grinned at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners.</p><p>“But…” Robin stammered, refusing to give up, “you don’t even like champagne.” </p><p>“Correction – I don’t like cheap champagne.  This one is quite good.  Much better than Dom Perignon.  Dom’s overrated in my opinion.”</p><p>  Robin still looked uncertain, so Strike rolled his eyes at her lovingly and said, “Will you just let me do something nice for you?  I was serious, I’m trying to make up for years of bad gifts.”</p><p>Robin smiled shyly, “Thank you.  This really is lovely.”</p><p>For a moment, Strike considered taking her hand in his, but the opportunity was stolen away by the waiter.</p><p>“Your champagne, sir.”</p><p>Strike reluctantly drug his eyes away from Robin to nod briefly at the waiter, then turned back to watch her eyes shining with excitement as her glass was poured.</p><p>When they both had a glass in front of them, Strike raised his and said, “A toast.  May your thirties bring you more laughter, more love, and more joy than your twenties.”</p><p>Robin’s eyes sparkled wetly.  Though she was thoroughly touched, she couldn’t help but tease him.  “Well that’s not saying much, considering in my twenties I was attacked several times, married the wrong man, and then got divorced after that man shagged his friend in our bed.”</p><p>Strike laughed, “OK, let me try again.”  He thought for a second, then raised his glass once more.  “To new beginnings.”</p><p>“I’ll drink to that,” Robin said with a sideways smile and clinked her glass to his before taking a sip of her champagne.</p><p>Strike watched as she raised the glass to her lips, wanting to see her reaction as the bubbles touched her tongue.  He wasn’t disappointed by the way her way eyes lit up or by the sound of surprised satisfaction she emitted. </p><p>“Wow, that’s really good.”</p><p>Strike grinned at her and gave her a cheeky, “I know,” before taking a sip from his own glass.</p><p>Robin was gazing at him almost shyly over the rim of her glass, causing Strike to realize that he wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping the desire from showing in his face.  On the point of looking away, he reminded himself that he didn’t want to hide his feelings anymore.  And so he set down his glass and reached over to run a finger over the beautiful opal pendant hanging from her neck. </p><p>“Was this a birthday present?”</p><p>Robin nodded and, heart in her throat, muttered, “From my parents.”</p><p>“It’s beautiful.”  Strike swallowed, his throat feeling dry.  Did he dare continue, as he really wanted?  “Almost as beautiful as you.”</p><p>Robin blushed and reached for her champagne, unsure of how to respond.  Strike returned to his glass as well, and moved onto the next topic, attempting to rescue Robin from her embarrassment. </p><p>“So are flowers totally out of the question, or were you just angry with me?”</p><p>Robin visibly relaxed and laughed, returning to her former teasing attitude.  “Definitely not.”</p><p>“Definitely no flowers, or you definitely weren’t angry with me?” Strike teased back.</p><p>“Definitely no flowers,” Robin grinned.</p><p>“I thought women liked flowers?”</p><p>“It’s not that I dislike flowers…” Robin hesitated.  Her champagne glass had been refilled without her noticing, and she was now halfway down her second glass which gave her the courage to continue.  “OK, new rule.  Flowers are acceptable as long as it’s not the only gift, and as long as it’s not lilies.”</p><p>“Fair enough,” Strike grinned.  “What’s wrong with lilies?  I thought they were pretty.”</p><p>“Bad associations,” Robin said quietly, but didn’t elaborate.</p><p>Strike wasn’t letting her off that easily, however.  He looked at her questioningly until she finally explained.</p><p>“The ones you got me last year reminded me of… well, of Sarah fucking Shadlock.” Strike laughed at her outburst so loudly that the couple next to them shot him a dirty look.</p><p>Robin giggled before continuing, “Remember my housewarming party?  She brought me a bouquet exactly like that.  So lilies will forever remind me of the woman who shagged my husband.”</p><p>Strike’s eyes widened.  “Shit.  Sorry.  I wouldn’t have blamed you if you threw back at me.”</p><p>Robin grinned and nudged him with her elbow, “I guess it’s the thought that counts.”</p><p>But Strike didn’t laugh at this joke.  Instead his face fell, and he looked around anxiously, making Robin wonder if she had upset him somehow.</p><p>He suddenly turned back to her and said, “That’s the problem I suppose.  I hadn’t put much thought into it.”  Then he did smile at her, a small repentant smile, and said, “That’s what tonight is about.  Like I said, I think I have a few years to make up for.”</p><p>They looked into each other eyes, lost in the ambience and champagne.  Was this the moment?</p><p>“You deserve all this and more,” he said quietly as he reached over and squeezed her hand.</p><p>The ever timely waiter appeared at that moment to ask if they would like to see a dinner menu.</p><p>***</p><p>Outside on the pavement, Strike lit a much needed cigarette.  Robin appeared to be dithering over some decision.  With a look of slight discomfiture, she dropped her eyes to her shoes.</p><p>“Thank you for this, Cormoran.  Really.  This was… This was more than I could have hoped for.  Thank you for a wonderful birthday.”</p><p>“The evening’s not over yet,” he told her with the hint of a grin.</p><p>When she looked at him questioningly, he said, “I’m taking you home, of course.”</p><p>For a wild moment, Robin thought he meant back to his flat.  But then he interrupted her train of thought.</p><p>“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t deliver you safely to your door?”</p><p>Robin grinned and looked back at her feet.</p><p>“Would you mind if we walk instead of taking a cab?  It’s such a nice evening,” Robin said.  In truth, she wanted to prolong the evening as much as possible.</p><p>The tube was crowded, so they were forced to squeeze into a corner together.  Neither minded the proximity, nor did they make any effort to produce any space between them.  When a woman bumped into Robin, pushing her into Strike’s chest, he steadied her with a hand on her waist.  She didn’t pull away, using the pretense of the crowded train to justify the continued contact.  Strike didn’t remove his hand, the better to support her in case anyone else bumped into her.</p><p>***</p><p>After a bottle of champagne, Robin was feeling mildly tipsy.  She was beginning to regret wanting to walk home, as her heels were now hurting her feet, making it harder to walk normally.  Her toe caught on a crack in the sidewalk, causing her to stumble.  Strike caught her by the elbow, preventing her from falling. </p><p>“Here,” Strike said, offering her his arm.</p><p>Robin gladly tucked her hand into his elbow.  As they neared her flat, neither spoke, both lost in their own thoughts.  Strike was trying to work out exactly how to express how he felt about her.  Robin was trying to muster the courage to ask him inside for a drink.</p><p>“Did you enjoy your birthday?”</p><p>“Oh, yes.  Everything was just wonderful.  Really Cormoran, this was probably the best birthday I’ve ever had.”</p><p>Strike beamed, a thrill running through him.</p><p>“You know, I think it’s the first time you’ve actually gotten me card,” Robin continued.</p><p>Strike remembered how much time he spent crafting the short message on the inside of the card, how long he had deliberated over adding a kiss.  The way Robin was currently gripping his arm and leaning into him told him he had made the right decision.</p><p>They were nearing her flat and Strike still hadn’t found the right words to say.  How do you tell someone that you don’t feel whole without them?  How do you explain a love that goes beyond romance?  How could he explain that she’s friend, family, home, and love all wrapped into one?  Would it scare her if he told her that she’s his very life?</p><p>They were approaching her door now, climbing the front steps.  Wishing he had had a drink after dinner to calm his nerves and loosen his tongue, Strike said with difficulty, “I have one more gift for you.”  She turned towards him, pausing in her attempt to dig the keys out of her bag.  “Well, this one’s partly for me,” he muttered so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.</p><p>Strike reached up to brush the hair away from her face, tracing his thumb lightly over her cheek.  He took a deep, shaky breath. </p><p>“Would it be alright if I kissed you goodnight?” he asked, his voice quiet and thick with the force of his emotion. </p><p>Robin raised a hand to his chest, lightly gripping his lapel.  Her “yes” was barely a whisper, her breath brushing across his lips that were already dropping towards hers.  Strike pressed his lips lightly against hers, his arm wrapping around her waist as his other hand cupped her cheek and neck.  They both had a moment to enjoy the new yet familiar press of each other’s lips before electricity zinged through them.  Both tilted their heads in unison, deepening the kiss.  Their lips parted and Strike’s tongue darted forward, seeking Robin’s. </p><p>Heat spread through his body as Strike tasted the remnants of champagne and crème brulee on her tongue.  His fingers wove into her hair as he cradled her head, drawing her closer to him.  The noise from the street faded into nothing as he lost himself in exploring the feel of her.  Her scent and her taste were a heady combination, making him feel more thoroughly drunk than the bottle of champagne had. </p><p>Robin wrapped her arms around his neck, arching her body into his.  She tangled her fingers into his hair, which was surprisingly soft.  He flicked her tongue with his, inviting her to take her turn plundering his mouth.  Their tongues twirled together in a rhythmic dance, instantly in sync with each other.  When she flicked her tongue against the roof of his mouth, he captured it by sucking on it, hard.  Robin emitted that sweet sound of satisfaction again. </p><p>The sound provoked a primitive response in Strike.  He had to tilt his hips backwards, so as to hide his burgeoning erection.  Slowly, he eased the kiss to an end and pulled back to look in her eyes, both breathing rather heavily.  His gaze was torn between the liquid heat in her eyes and the kiss-brightened pink of her lips. </p><p>“Would you like to come in?” Robin asked, her voice unsteady and husky.</p><p>“Are you sure?” Strike asked, looking into her eyes.</p><p>Robin nodded and grasped his hand, unable to speak.  She unlocked the door and pulled him forward toward her bedroom.</p><p>Strike saw the donkey floating in the corner of her bedroom and smiled.  It gave him the odd sensation that he somehow already a claim on her bedroom, making him feel perfectly at home.</p><p>He removed his jacket as Robin stepped awkwardly into the middle of the room.  Strike watched her, letting her take the lead, not wanting to make her feel pressured or uncomfortable.  He wanted to make sure she knew she could change her mind, that how far they took this was entirely her decision. </p><p>Robin smiled at him and stepped towards him.  She grasped his tie and pulled him forward into a kiss.  Strike’s hands went to her hips as he allowed her to plunder his mouth with her tongue.  He nipped playfully at the tip of her tongue when she ran it lightly over his lip, causing her to smile against him.  He kissed along her jawline to her ear and ran his tongue along the tip of her cartilage, causing her to shiver. </p><p>Strike nuzzled into her neck, inhaling her soft velvety scent and committing it memory.  His nose ghosted over her skin, letting the warm musk and subtle floral scent carry him away.  When he traced a small figure eight with his tongue, she shivered and pressed her hips into him.  He smiled, wondering how many other special little secrets her neck held.  His lips and tongue continued to explore.  In addition to the one just under her jaw, he found another sensitive spot behind her ear, in the hollow of her collar bone, and at the back of her neck just below her hairline.</p><p>The one on the back of her neck seemed to be the most sensitive, as she had involuntarily pressed her body more firmly into his and emitted a soft moan.  Robin’s hands came to his chest and pulled at his tie, trying to loosen it.  He pulled away from her neck, just long enough to help her with the tie and pull it from his collar.  As soon as it was free, he dropped his lips to the other side of her neck, determined to explore it just as thoroughly.</p><p>Robin unbuttoned his shirt with fumbling fingers, distracted by the path his tongue was making behind her ear.  She finally succeeded in unbuttoning his shirt and pushed it open.  She trailed her fingers over his stomach to his waistband, pulling both shirt and undershirt free of his trousers.  Strike’s breath hitched when her fingers grazed the skin of his abdomen.</p><p>Strike pulled back so Robin could push the dress shirt from his shoulders.  Looking into his eyes, she then slowly lifted his undershirt over his head.  She ran her hands over his chest, kneading into his muscles.  Strike captured her mouth in a searing kiss.  Moving slowly, Strike wrapped his arms around her and eased down the zipper of her dress.</p><p>An unbidden memory of Matthew removing a dress entered her mind.  The difference between the two was quite shocking.  One was rough, selfish, and uncaring; the other gentle, tender, and loving.  The contrast fueled her desire, and she intensified the already passionate kiss.</p><p>Strike noticed the change, and knew with absolute certainty that there was no hesitation, no fear in Robin’s mind.  He pushed the dress down over shoulders, where it caught on her ample hips.  Robin helped him push the dress past her curves, where it pooled on the floor around her ankles.  Strike ran his hands up her arms, relishing the smoothness of her skin, his eyes drawn to the creamy mounds of her breasts.  He dropped his lips to her shoulder, trailing light kisses across her collarbone.</p><p>Robin reached between them and unbuckled his belt.  She struggled a bit with the button of his trousers.  He could have helped her, but for some reason Strike enjoyed watching her face scrunch in frustration.  When she finally succeeded, he drew her mouth to his once more and turned her towards the bed.  He eased her back onto the bed without relinquishing her lips. </p><p>He hovered over her, supporting himself on an elbow, half on his side, half on top of her.  Their hands roved over each other’s skin, wild with lust.</p><p>“Cormoran…” Robin breathed in his ear, sending a frisson of pleasure down his spine. </p><p>Strike rolled onto his back and pushed his trousers down over his hips.  He quickly kicked off his shoes and unbuckled his prosthesis, tossing it unceremoniously aside where it landed on the floor with a dull thunk.  He took the condom out of his wallet – which he had stored there earlier, just in case – and placed it on her bedside table before tossing his trousers aside. </p><p>Robin rolled on top of him, placing light kisses across his chest.  Strike ran his hands over her hips and watched in wonder as she leaned back and unhooked her bra.  The look of pure admiration that came over his face caused her neck and chest to flush with pleasure. </p><p>“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed as he reached up to cup her breasts.</p><p>Sitting up, he nuzzled into her neck and licked at his new favorite spots, then leaned back, pulling her down with him.</p><p>“I think we still have too many clothes on,” Robin muttered, voice shaky with lust. </p><p>Strike growled and flipped her onto her back.  He kissed down her chest between her breasts and over her abdomen.  He paused at her navel, tracing his tongue lightly around the edge.  Slowly, he peeled her knickers down over her hips, kissing her hipbones as he went.  He feasted his eyes on the tangle of red-gold curls at the apex of her thighs.  Unable to resist tasting her, he dropped his mouth to her molten core, eliciting a long moan.</p><p>Strike’s tongue flicked and licked, somehow knowing the exact pressure she needed.  Robin lifted her hips up into him, desperate for release. </p><p>“Fuck, you’re good at that,” she moaned. </p><p>Strike hummed in appreciation, adding a new dimension to her pleasure.  Robin tangled her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer.  Strike eased a finger into her wet heat, gently messaging her most pleasurable spot. </p><p>“Cormoran…” Robin panted, “I need…”</p><p>He lifted his head just enough to murmur, “What do you need, love?”</p><p>“More,” was all Robin was able to manage. </p><p>“Are you sure you don’t want me to make you come like this?  I’m not in any hurry.”  As if to emphasize his point, he lowered his head back to her mound and flicked his tongue across her sensitive nub.</p><p>She enjoyed the ministrations for a moment before tugging on his hair, pulling him up towards her.</p><p>“I need you,” I said desperately.  Strike grinned when Robin pushed him over onto his back and pulled down his boxers, allowing his cock to spring free.</p><p>She was about to lower her head to his shaft to reciprocate, but he stopped her by cupping her cheeks with his hands.  As much as he wanted to feel her mouth around him, Strike had the feeling that Robin didn’t have much experience with a generous lover.  His was filled with an odd sense of protectiveness and responsibility to show her exactly how an exceptional woman such as herself should be treated.</p><p>“Uh-uh, tonight’s about you, birthday girl.”  And he pulled her up into a kiss. </p><p>Strike rolled them both, pressing her back into the mattress.  He grabbed the condom from the bedside table and quickly sheathed himself.  Another not entirely unwelcome thought floated to the front of Robin’s mind.  She was touched by his preparedness, and even more so that he took out the condom without even asking.  It was such an unselfish contrast to Matthew, who had refused to use condoms because he didn’t like them.</p><p>Strike nestled in between her legs, his hands on either side of her head.</p><p>“You’re sure?” he whispered, giving her one last chance to change her mind.</p><p>Robin wrapped her legs tightly around him and wound her arms around his shoulders.</p><p>“Very sure,” she breathed.</p><p>Strike looked deeply into her eyes as he pressed his tip into her waiting opening.  He watched her face, as he had with the champagne, relishing the look of pleasure that swept over her features.  Her mouth fell open on a moan and he pressed in further. </p><p>Robin clutched at him desperately, trying to pull him closer to her.  Strike smiled at her impatience and gladly gave her what she wanted, filling her completely.  Robin panted as she adjusted to the size of him.</p><p>“You okay?” he muttered in her ear. He felt her nod.</p><p>He pulled back slowly before easing back into her.  Robin moved her hips, impatient with his slow pace.  “Cormoran, harder,” she moaned. </p><p>He happily obliged, pulling back and thrusting into her more firmly.  Her breath caught and she threw her head back as he thrust into her again.</p><p>“Fuck, Robin, you feel so good.”</p><p>She grasped his shoulders tightly and canted her hips, trying to get him to move faster.  Again, he gave her what she needed as he quickened his pace.  They moved in rhythm, hips thrusting into each other, skin pressed against skin, hands and lips exploring.  Strike could feel Robin’s intimate walls clenching around him.  Her moans told him she must be getting close. </p><p>He altered the angle of his thrusts, thrusting to one side and then the other, and finally up into that delicious bundle of nerves.  Robin’s moans became higher and higher pitched, frantic with need.  Strike nearly came when Robin reached between them and rubbed her clit.  Determined to hold out for her, he tried to distract himself, but Robin surrounded him.  She was all he could see, all he could smell, and all he could feel.  It was a relief when he felt her shatter beneath him.  With a high pitched cry, nearly a scream, Robin came with a force that surprised her and left her completely breathless.</p><p>Strike kept up his relentless pace, drawing out her orgasm, until he couldn’t hold back the flood any longer.  With a guttural grunt and an oath, Strike’s own orgasm pulsed through him until he felt completely and utterly drained.  Panting heavily, he nuzzled into her neck and hair, trailing light, breathless kisses across her skin.</p><p>When the pounding in his veins stopped, he rolled to the side and dealt with the condom before pulling Robin tightly into his chest.  They lay in silence for several minutes, satisfied with simply holding each other.  Strike was tracing lazy circles across her backside with his fingertips. </p><p>Robin was overwhelmed with emotion.  She hid her face in his chest, not wanting him to see the wetness in her eyes.  But of course, she didn’t fool him.  He could feel the tears leaking onto his skin.  He gently traced a finger down her jaw to her chin, gently lifting it so he could look in her eyes. </p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>Still beyond words, Robin gave him a watery smile and nodded.  Strike placed a gentle kiss on her lips.</p><p>“Robin, I want you to know that… This isn’t… I mean…” he swallowed, trying to put into words what he was feeling, needing her to understand.  “This wasn’t a… a one-time thing… for me.  You’re the most important thing in my life.  This, us… I just want you to know that I don’t take it lightly.”</p><p>Robin’s eyes watered anew.  The only response she could manage was, “I know, me too.”</p><p>Strike looked into her eyes, seeing the truth of his feelings reflected back at him.</p><p>He swallowed the lump in his throat with difficulty.  Voice rough and cracked and thick with emotion, he murmured, “I love you, Robin.”</p><p>Robin choked back a sob, her emotions too close to the surface and raw.  She smiled at him and said, “Yeah, well… the feeling’s mutual.”</p><p>Strike smiled his eye crinkling smile she loved so much.  Robin’s already fragile nerves shattered completely when she noticed the moisture building in his eyes.</p><p>“Happy birthday, my love.”</p><p>“You know,” Robin said thickly, “you’ve set the bar awfully high with this one.  This birthday is going to be rather difficult to top.”</p><p>Strike grinned at her and pulled her closer.  “I know, but I’m up for the challenge.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What should have happened when Robin and Strike meet in a cafe for breakfast after he gets back from Cornwall.</p><p>Not explicit.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>From Troubled Blood:</p>
  <p>
    <em>Having ordered a cappuccino, she headed for the back of the café, where Strike sat reading The Times beneath an iron chandelier that resembled a large spider.  She seemed to have forgotten over the previous six days how large he was.  Hunched over the newspaper, he reminded her of a black bear, stubble thick on his face, tucking into a bacon and egg ciabatta roll, and Robin felt a wave of liking simply for the way he looked. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>There was something distinctly <em>cuddly</em> about his appearance.  His clothes were slightly rumpled as if he had slept in them, which he probably had.  Robin flushed slightly.  She had seen him in much more intimate moments than this, such as they were – she had seen a glimpse of his stomach once when he had done up his shirt wrong, she had walked in on him in his boxers and t-shirt at Lorelei’s, she had even accidentally kissed him once.  Watching her sleepy, just-got-off-a-train partner eating a breakfast sandwich in a café was hardly intimate.   But somehow the image of this bed-softened Cormoran was bringing forth thoughts she most certainly should not be having about her work partner, such as what his heavy stubble might feel like scratching against her skin.  His mussed up, easy, cuddly look was completely endearing, yet it also sent a shiver down her spine.</p><p>Robin felt her face warm even more as she took in the sight of Cormoran’s bed head.  Granted his hair was always the same riot of curls no matter what, but Robin imagined his curls looked softer and more unruly somehow.  Robin wrapped her hands around her mug to keep herself from running her fingers through those curls.  Looking for a distraction, she noticed that his coffee was empty and so she got up to get him another.</p><p>When Robin returned to the table, Cormoran was resting his head on his hand, elbow on the table.  His fingers were absently scratching at his temple as he continued to read the paper, lips twitching as he mouthed the words to himself. </p><p>Robin set his coffee in front of him and before she knew what she was doing, she had run a hand over his head, his curls soft and springy beneath her fingers.  Cormoran’s hand fell to the table as his eyes closed and he leaned into her hand.  Robin curled her fingers, embarrassed with herself for crossing this line – <em>this was not something friends did, or was it?  </em>She started to pull her hand away, but Strike stopped her.</p><p>“Don’t stop,” he murmured.  “No one’s petted me like that in ages.”  One eye peeked open at her, a small grin curving his lips.</p><p>Robin snorted, his comment echoing her previous thoughts of his animal-like appearance.</p><p>Strike scooted over a little so Robin could slide in next to him.  She wound her fingers in his hair once more, gently rubbing his scalp.  A soft moan escaped his throat when Robin added a graze of her fingernails. </p><p>“You’re going to put me to sleep like this.  I don’t think I slept at all on the train.”  He slumped forward, resting his forehead on his hands. </p><p>Robin continued to stroke and scratch his head, her heart beating faster, wondering where they were supposed to go from here.  Strike turned his head and peered up at her, a sleepy grin crinkling his already softened eyes.  His eye twitched in the merest hint of a wink. </p><p>Robin’s hand stilled, dropping to his neck and then to his shoulder.  Her hand fell away, grazing his back as he sat up.  She had wanted to rub his back as well, but feared she had already obliterated the line of professional friendship enough for one day. </p><p>“I suppose we should talk about the case.  You said you had some news?” he asked.</p><p>Strike’s arm brushed against hers as he shifted in his seat, extracting papers from his coat.  His elbow somehow came to rest against her arm, and he made no effort to remove it.  Robin didn’t move back to her side of the table, a fact which both of the detectives noticed but chose not to mention, both having been buoyed by the intimate proximity.</p><p>“Do you want the bad news or the good news first?” Robin began.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 65</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What if Strike had bought Robin a donkey in Skegness?  This is my take on how this chapter should have gone.<br/>This is pure, non-explicit fluff.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>From Troubled Blood:</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Waiting to be served, Strike was seized by a sudden, quixotic impulse (stimulated no doubt by the gaudy color all around him, by the sunshine and sticks of rock, the rattle and clang of amusement arcades and a stomach full of some of the best fish and chips he’d ever eaten) to buy Robin a toy donkey.  He came to his senses almost before the idea had formed: what was he, a kid on a daytime date with his first girlfriend?  Emerging again into the sunlight as he left the shop, he noted that he couldn’t have bought a donkey if he’d wanted to.  There wasn’t a single one in sight: the bins full of plushes held only unicorns.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <span>When Strike exited the newsagent, it was to find that Robin had wandered down the merchant stalls, looking at all the trinkets for sale.  He turned to follow after her, but stopped next to the toy store with the bins of unicorns out front.  Looking through the window, he could see more plushy animals inside.  Before he realized what his feet were doing, they had carried him into the shop.  Scanning the shelves quickly, he found what he was looking for in a back corner.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The corner shelf was covered in soft, stuffed donkeys, each complete with a saddle, harness, and name embossed on the straps across their muzzles.  He immediately ruled out all of the blue harnesses, though he couldn’t have explained why.  He just thought the red and gold ones suited Robin more.  He searched through the names, trying to find one that he could imagine Robin choosing.  Most were far too cutesy, and put him further in mind of trying to impress his first girlfriend when he was thirteen.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He passed over Doodle, Winky, and Pokey, deciding they were entirely too revolting.  He briefly considered Pip and Noddy, but decided they were also too cutesy.  He was toeing the line of sappy is it was, no need to add fuel to that fire.  There were several with human-sounding names, which didn’t seem too bad.  He didn’t like Pedro or Mario, feeling those were a bit too...cultural.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After some deliberation, he narrowed it down to a black donkey named Vinnie, a gray donkey with dark ears named Alfie, and a pale gray, almost white donkey named JoJo.  He had also briefly considered the brown donkey named Noodle, but felt he would probably receive some well-deserved ribbing for picking one named after food.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He eliminated Alfie, deciding that if Robin were to cuddle the toy - which he hoped she would, though he would never admit it out loud - he didn’t want it to be a male donkey, for reasons he chose not to dwell upon.  Eventually he decided on Vinnie.  Its fur felt softer than the others, somehow, and the name reminded him of Robin.  It would actually be a good nickname for her, he reflected, and he wondered how she would respond if he called her that.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Smiling to himself at the thought of Robin scolding him for calling her Vinnie, he paid for the toy - twenty-five quid! - and exited the shop, looking at his watch.  He had been shopping for some time, much longer than he had realized.  He set off down the row of merchants, looking for Robin.  He found her coming out of Fifi’s Ice Cream shop, carrying two ice cream cones.  One was rather small and dipped in chocolate.  The other, which he hoped was for himself, was quite large and covered in nuts and toffee, with two chocolate bars sticking out of the top.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here you are,” she said, handing him the ice cream he had hoped was for himself.  “Toffee Nut Fudge.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Strike had no idea what other flavors Fifi’s Ice Cream shop offered, but “Toffee Nut Fudge” was the exact flavor he would have picked for himself.  He pulled one of the chocolate bars out of the top and licked it clean of ice cream before taking a large bite that consumed almost half the bar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He saw Robin bite into the chocolate shell of her dipped cone, and he gasped, horrified by the thought of cold ice cream against teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wot?” she asked thickly, her mouth full of vanilla soft serve and candy shell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How can you just bite into it like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” she took another bite and he shuddered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does that not hurt your teeth?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled at him fondly and shook her head.  “You really are a soft Southerner, aren’t you?”  When it seemed like he was still waiting for a response, she continued, “It does sting a bit, but how else are you supposed to get through the chocolate?”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For starters, you don’t get one that’s dipped - “</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ - Which is why I didn’t get you a dipped one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And second,” he continued as if she hadn’t interrupted, “you have to suck on it a bit, kind of mush it with your mouth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled mischievously and, looking right at him, took another ostentatious bite of her ice cream.  He grimaced and turned his eyes to his own cone, and sucked the soft, toffee-covered peak into his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shall we at least go look at the sea before we leave?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robin nodded her head in agreement, since she wouldn’t be able to drive and hold her ice cream at the same time.  They made their way to the pier, happily slurping up their rapidly melting treats.  They leaned against the railing of the pier and watched the waves roll in.  Strike sighed, listening to the quiet roar of rushing water that always managed to soothe his soul.  He popped the last bite of his ice cream cone in his mouth, thinking of Joan.  The ocean always reminded him of Cornwall, but now he doubted he would ever be able to look upon the foamy waves or endless blue without thinking of her.  Impractical though it may be with his false foot, he had a sudden urge to dip his toes in the water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to…?” he trailed off as he gestured toward the sandy beach beneath them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robin looked at him blankly as she licked a drop of vanilla cream off her bottom lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to walk along the beach a bit?” he finished, feeling nervous for reasons he couldn’t identify.  Perhaps it was the recent thoughts of being on a date with his first girlfriend, or because he had caught himself watching Robin earlier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, if you don’t mind.  I always feel it’s a shame if you’re so close to the ocean and don’t get your feet wet.  So are you going to tell me what you bought?  I never thought of you as the souvenir type,” she teased.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had nearly forgotten the bag that was hanging from his wrist, distracted as he had been by the delicious ice cream.  He stepped cautiously onto the sand, since soft surfaces were difficult with his false foot.  Robin had stopped behind him to remove her sandals so she could feel the sand squish between her toes.  He waited for her to catch up with him, then traded her the bag for her sandals.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s for you.  It’s nothing, really.  I just saw it, and thought you might like it, since you said… you know, that you liked them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robin pulled the soft, squishy donkey from the bag, and stared at it for one long moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bit stupid really,” Strike was backpedaling now, afraid that he had crossed some line, that he might give her the wrong impression.  Although, he wasn’t entirely certain what impression he had wanted to give her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then her face split into a huge grin and she hugged the little donkey to her chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s perfect!  I love it!  Thank you, Cormoran.  How did you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Know what?  That you liked the donkeys?  You told me so, just a bit - “</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s just…my favorite donkey looked exactly like this one.  Only his name was Noddy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They had a Noddy, in the shop.  But I liked Vinnie better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robin smiled and clutched the donkey tighter to her chest.  “I like Vinnie too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moment hung in the air between them, where Robin considered hugging him in thanks, and Strike saw the pressure of some kind of physical display of gratitude wash over her features.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead he nodded towards the waves.  “Did you want to put your feet in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, right.  I’ll just be a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take your time, we’ve got no place to be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robin smiled shyly at him, then said, “In that case, d’you think we could ride the Ferris wheel before we go?  Only I used to ride it with my brother Stephen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.  I haven’t been on one of those in ages.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robin left him standing awkwardly in the sand, still holder her sandals for her, as she padded her way to the water’s edge, Vinnie still cuddled to her chest.  Strike watched her dipping her toes in the water.  He laughed along with her when a wave rushed unexpectedly past her, submerging her calves in frigid water, and she squealed and ran backwards.  He thought of sitting next to her on the Ferris wheel, getting a better view of the beach when the ride would undoubtedly stop at the top.  His mind turned inexplicably back to his thirteen year old self, thinking that the daytime dates with his first girlfriend certainly hadn’t been this enjoyable.</span>
</p>
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